


Angels and Demons

by Twyd



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angel Wings, Angels, Angst, Chases, Crack Treated Seriously, Demons, Drama, Enemies to Lovers, Fallen Angels, Falling In Love, Fantasy, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Gothic, Heaven, Hell, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Magic, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Politics, Romance, Sex, Sins, Spirits, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:34:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21719992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twyd/pseuds/Twyd
Summary: Shizuo is an angel who guards the gates of heaven. Izaya is a demon who loves breaking into heaven. Thus their eternal war begins."Open your mouth. Don't you know anything?"Shikizaya in the background only.
Relationships: Heiwajima Shizuo/Orihara Izaya, Orihara Izaya/Shiki Haruya
Comments: 25
Kudos: 130





	Angels and Demons

The gates of heaven rattle and the rocks of hell shake as two feathered blurs race by. The inhabitants of both realms roll their eyes and sigh. Shizuo and Izaya are at it again.

Shizuo normally chased Izaya around the Earth, but they occasionally brushed against their lands too. Shizuo is a gatekeeper of heaven. Izaya is a demon who loves breaking into heaven. Thus their eternal war begins. Shizuo would chase the demon through the Saharan desert, over oceans, across mountains, under waterfalls, riding tidal waves and hurricanes and whatever else the universe decided to throw their way. 

And Shizuo had to admit, he likes it. He gets a little bored as gatekeeper now and then. Their chases made him feel alive again, on a much grander and glorious scale. 

They are in some desert plains now, the stars twinkling above them. There is a tornado in the distance, and the feathery black blur that is Izaya is hurtling head first towards it. He pauses only to crane his head over his wings to make sure Shizuo is still following, wings that shine in the moonlight. Then he dives into the tornado.

Playing with a tornado was not as easy as Izaya made it look. The wind roars in Shizuo’s ears, and he is thrown in rough, maddening circles he is helpless to fight. His wings feel as though they will be blown off at any moment. No harm could come to Shizuo, to either of them, but still, being blown around for hours was not Shizuo’s idea of fun. He’s bailing.

“Shizu-chan,” an eerie voice taunts.

Shizuo squints, trying to find the demon in the chaos.

He finally spots Izaya floating calmly in the eye of the tornado, barely a hair out of place. He meets Shizuo’s eye and smiles. He holds out his hand mockingly.

It takes Shizuo a moment to force his arm through the opposing whirlwind, and then Izaya’s hand is gripping his wrist and pulling him into the centre. Izaya lets go and circles Shizuo mockingly as he recovers his balance in the air. Then he gets the demon by the throat and kisses him hard. Izaya kisses back, clinging to him and entwining their legs. Their wings beat lazily now and then, to keep afloat, and they turn slowly in the air, the angelic and demonic version of dancing. 

Shizuo eventually breaks off with an annoyed sigh.

“I hate hurricanes,” he grumbles, fluttering dust off his creamy wings. “You know I do.”

“Tornadoes,” Izaya corrects.

“I hate those too!”

“Shizu-chan, come on.” The demon winds his arms around the angel’s neck. “Our first kiss was inside a tornado. How can you hate them?” He raises himself up on Shizuo’s shoulders to kiss him on the nose. “But, next time I promise we can go to Aruba again, and play with the flamingos.”

Shizuo softens, thinking of the gentle, beautiful pink birds that liked to fly with them. He and Izaya often played with birds or sea lions or whichever animals happened to be paying attention, occasionally human babies.

Izaya squeezes his hand now.

“Shall we?”

They burst out of the tornado’s walls and race each other to the nearest waterfall a few thousand miles away. Izaya dips himself only briefly to get clean and shakes off, his wings drying as easily and naturally as a swan’s. Shizuo’s wings are slightly bigger and fluffier, so this process takes a little longer.

Izaya ruffles them as if they were a pair of puppies.

“You’re so cute, Shizu-chan.”

“Shut up,” Shizuo says mechanically.

“It’s so counter-intuitive putting someone as cute as you on the gates," Izaya continues. "I mean, everyone must want to break in.”

Shizuo pulls the demon into his lap, settling them both on a rock by the falls.

“I missed you,” Shizuo says, nuzzling his silky hair.

“I missed you too.” Izaya flutters his wings against Shizuo’s chest, content as a bird. 

“We need to be more careful though,” Shizuo says. “Don’t break in so often. People are starting to talk.”

 _“Starting?”_ Izaya echoes sarcastically.

“I mean it,” Shizuo says. “It doesn’t matter so much what we do on Earth - there’s enough damage without us - but they don’t like it when you get too close up there and I get too close down there.”

Izaya snorts and says nothing.

“So just be careful,” Shizuo gives a final plea, knowing Izaya would be more likely to stir trouble than reign it in if he was nagged too much longer. 

“Don’t worry, Shizu-chan,” Izaya says, picking up Shizuo’s hand and kissing his fingers. “We’ll be fine.”

-

Shizuo goes back to his gate in good time to take over from Tom, and is in a good mood until his shift ends.

When Shizuo returns home, his parents are waiting for him inside looking grave. Kasuka is also there, looking apologetic, as if he’d tried to either prevent whatever had happened or warn Shizuo in time, and had failed. Shizuo stares at his parents. He didn’t think they knew about his activities with Izaya, but at this stage he supposes that was a little naive. Before them floats a seemingly endless scroll of his and Izaya’s crimes over the centuries. Shizuo reads the first few and then stops at, ‘fornication on a church roof,' having to look away.

“This needs to stop,” his Father says quietly.

“This is exaggerated,” Shizuo snaps back. “I was mostly just chasing him out of heaven, like I'm supposed to.”

“Well, he won’t be coming up here again.”

There is something ominous in his Father’s voice that Shizuo doesn’t like.

“Izaya has had his wings clipped.”

Shizuo shudders as something scarily close to pain goes through him.

“It’s not permanent,” his mother puts in, unable to see him suffer. “And he’s not in any pain. It was more to make an example. We have all sorts breaking in at the moment.”

“Still, that demon is responsible for a lot more of this than you.” Shizuo's Father gestures to the scroll with disgust. “But let this be a lesson, Shizuo. Demons are more trouble than they’re worth.”

Shizuo understands suddenly that they had been the ones to break the news because if it had been officials, Shizuo may have lost it and had his own wings clipped as a result. He is shaking now. Kasuka comes forward and takes his brother’s hand. He says something that Shizuo doesn’t hear.

“I want to be alone,” Shizuo says, voice raw.

He gives Kasuka’s hand a clumsy squeeze, and lets go. 

“Don’t forget what I said, Shizuo,” his Father calls to his retreating wings.

-

Shizuo flies down, aiming himself like an arrow into the depths of the Earth. He gets a few curious looks, but he doesn’t care. Everyone knew that angels were stronger than demons, and that he was one of the strongest of them all. Still, he had only ever been this far down before with Izaya, and he hesitates at the gates. He beats his wings gently to cool himself before the fires.

One of the leaders is coming through the gates as he dithers. Shizuo recognises him at once by the size of his wings and the markings on his skin. The demon looks up and stops, apparently recognising him as well.

“He’s not here.”

Shizuo is almost relieved that he will not have to take a step further. 

“He’s looking for you,” the head demon adds.

“Thank you,” Shizuo says. He takes off without further encouragement, gulping in the cleaner air of above.

Following his instincts, he finds Izaya on a little cloudbed he’d made for himself far from heaven's gates. His stunted wings are wrapped around himself like a blanket. Shizuo feels a burst of joy at the sight of him, and almost knocks him off the cloud in his enthusiasm.

Izaya however glares daggers at him, glaring at Shizuo’s intact wings as if he wanted to rip them out. 

“Are you OK?” Shizuo asks. “Are you - have they - grown back?”

“No, they have not grown back, you fucking imbecile,” Izaya growls, spreading them, and Shizuo sees that his inner feathers have been clipped like a pet bird, and shudders, unable to bear the sight. Izaya pulls his wings around himself again. Shizuo reaches for him, but his hand is smacked aside.

“You were looking for me,” he points out reproachfully.

“I was not looking for you,” Izaya snaps. “I just don’t want my people to see me like this. I’m nowhere near the gates, so your lot shouldn’t have a problem with it.”

“But how did you get up here?”

“My secretary brought me.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No, but…” he looks away, scowling at the clouds. “It’s like - I can’t even explain it. It’s like losing part of yourself.”

“But they’ll grow back, right?”

“That’s not the point!”

His wings shift, and Shizuo catches a glimpse of the growing claws on his hands. The demon’s eyes are also glowing red. Shizuo pulls Izaya’s hands out of his wings and holds them, ignoring the claws. 

“I’m so sorry, Izaya.”

“It’s not fair,” the demon says bitterly. “People worse than me have gotten in in the past. And it’s so hypocritical. You’re supposed to be the good guys, but if it had been the other way round, you can better no-one would have clipped _your_ wings.”

Shizuo pulls him into a hug. Izaya stiffens, wings still tight around himself.

“Can I do anything for you?” Shizuo murmurs. “Tell me anywhere you want to go in the world and I’ll take you. There’s an amazing sunset over Mexico right now.”

Izaya sniffs.

“Nothing changes then?” he sneers. “They won’t like that. They might clip me for good.”

“They wouldn’t do that,” Shizuo soothes. “Just stay away from heaven for a bit. I’ll come down to see you, I don’t mind risking it, and we’ll keep exploring Earth together like we always have.”

Izaya’s fingers finally squeeze his own. Shizuo feels his claws have begun to retreat.

“Are you still attracted to me with clipped wings?” he asks softly.

“Of course. I’d be attracted to you with _no_ wings.”

“Don’t,” he says, shuddering.

“Hasn’t Shinra given you anything for them?”

“Yes.” He leans out of Shizuo’s arms and produces two vials from his clothes, one red, one ivory. 

“What’s the difference?” Shizuo asks, studying them. “One for each wing?”

“No,” Izaya says impatiently. “One’s rose scented and one’s orchid scented. They’re supposed to be relaxing. I hate Shinra,” he adds. "I don't want to smell like a fucking garden bush."

“I don’t know, a relaxing massage might be a good idea,” Shizuo coaxes. “Let me try.”

Izaya hesitates, but then he turns round so he can lean back in Shizuo’s arms. He raises his wings and shows Shizuo awkwardly where the ointment needs to go, where he can’t quite reach himself. “Here,” he says, fingering the shortened feathers. “But be careful, Shizu-chan. If I feel so much as a tweak then I’m clawing you.”

“I’ll be careful,” Shizuo promises. 

Izaya silently hands him the orchid vial.

A wonderful scent engulfs them as soon as Shizuo removes the stopper. He dabs a little on his fingers and then rubs them together, letting the little vial float in the air.

“How much should I use?”

“As much as you want. It refills automatically.”

Shizuo slides his fingers into Izaya’s feathers and slowly massages the ointment into his skin. He is so cautious at first that Izaya wriggles impatiently.

“More than that, Shizu-chan. Get down to the muscle.”

“Sorry.” He kisses Izaya’s head and massages him more deeply. Gradually, he can feel the demon unwind underneath him, his muscles going soft, almost becoming part of the clouds. “You smell nice and flowery now,” he says.

“Shut up,” Izaya murmurs.

“I love you,” he says. He knows Izaya heard by the way he stiffens. Neither of them have said it before. He said it in his own language, and repeats it now in Izaya's. They were old enough now to be fluent in both, and jumped easily between the two. They would also play a game on Earth in which they would compete with each other in who knew the most languages and dialects, existing and extinct. Shizuo wants to tell Izaya he loved him in every language there ever was. 

“Go to Ikebukuro in Tokyo every night at midnight,” Izaya commands now, in a slightly shaky voice. “Wait for me by the tallest skyscraper you can find. I’ll come to you when I can fly again.”

“Do you know how long that’ll be?"

Izaya beats Shizuo with his wings then. “Well, if you’ve got something better to do…”

“No,” Shizuo says, enclosing Izaya in his own wings. “It just sounds like it might be a while.”

“You’ll manage.”

“OK. But don’t sit up here by yourself any more. You could fall.”

“It was just to see you.”

“Well, I’ll come down to see you instead. Any time you want.”

Izaya leans back to nuzzle Shizuo’s throat.

“Why don’t you come down for good, Shizu-chan?” he murmurs. “We can have fiery hell sex.”

“That sounds awful.”

“No. It’s sublime.” He finds Shizuo’s hand again. “Seriously though. It’s not as bad as people think. There are no paedophiles or dictators walking around. We have a system.”

“I know,” Shizuo says softly. “But what about my family? My friends? My job?”

It would be better, Shizuo had thought many times, if Izaya could come up and join him, for he wasn’t close to his family, loved spending time in or near heaven and wrote poems that even the most saintly of angels adored. 

“I was only joking,” Izaya says coolly. “I know you wouldn’t be happy down there.”

“Let’s stick to Earth,” Shizuo says.

Izaya nods. “I’ll see you in Ikebukuro.”

-

Shizuo gets a lot of looks when he finally passes through heaven’s gates - people had clearly guessed where he’d been. He flutters the red dust off himself self consciously. Tom is waiting for him with a glass of mead.

“How is he?” he asks, for he knew where he had been, the whole realm knew where he had been and the whole thing was so damn hypocritical that Shizuo almost wished he could breathe fire.

“He’s OK,” Shizuo says, steadying himself. Tom was on his side, after all.

After a few drinks, Shizuo goes home to his own cloud bed and recounts his and Izaya’s first kiss from long ago. Their first tornado. Their first chase.

“Close your mouth,” Izaya orders as Shizuo battles his way through the whirlwind, narrowly saving him from a mouthful of dust and dirt.

“Is is true that angels don’t have genitals?” Izaya had asked then, once they were alone in the eye. “I heard you don’t.”

“I have genitals,” Shizuo growls.

“Are you sure?” And to Shizuo’s horror a beautiful white hand snatches out and fondles him through his clothes. “Ah,” he says. “Now I remember. You have genitals, but you’re impotent, isn’t that right?”

“No,” Shizuo growls in frustration, as Izaya taunts him like a lamb cuddling up to a wolf. 

“Ah,” Izaya says again, as Shizuo proves to be decidedly not impotent. “You must be a _naughty_ angel.”

And Shizuo had taken Izaya by the throat and kissed him.

“Open your mouth,” Izaya commands, unphased. “Don’t you know anything?”

Shizuo waits for thunder to crack and for lightning from heaven to strike him down, but nothing happens.

“Please,” Shizuo groans, as Izaya continues to work his crotch from the outside. “Inside.”

Izaya slips a hand inside his clothes and a suddenly coated finger inside him.

“Is that not what you meant by inside?” he says as Shizuo gasps and closes his eyes. “Be more specific next time.”

Still nothing strikes him down, even as they go far beyond kissing and howl their pleasure as the tornado throws them around their deserted patch of the Earth. 

“Truly a terrible angel,” Izaya mocks afterwards. “In the short time I’ve known you I’ve seen, what, wrath, greed - all those cloud cakes! - envy, in the way you look at your brother the beloved choirboy -”

“Do you ever shut up?” Shizuo complains.

“And my personal favourite, lust.” His red eyes glow happily.

“And what about you?”

“Me?”

“How would your demon buddies feel about you fooling around with an angel?”

Izaya looks startled for a moment. Then he shrugs. “I’m corrupting you. They’d be very happy for me.”

“Sure you are,” Shizuo says. “I’m not stupid. I know how political it is down there, and how you guys don’t like making trouble unless you really have to. So I don’t think they would be happy that you keep coming up to piss off the brother of the beloved choirboy, as you put it.”

Izaya glares at him.

“Are you blackmailing me?”

“No!” Shizuo throws out his wings in frustration. “I’m pointing out that you like me, you freak.”

Izaya looks irritated for the first time, and Shizuo kisses him in triumph. 

After their first kiss, they go on their first Earth date, stargazing in the Atacama in Chile.

“I don’t think your friends will like me,” Izaya had sighed with his usual forthrightness, floating on his back under the stars.

“Yours won’t like me either.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I don’t have many friends,” he mumbled.

“Yes, you do. You have Shinra and Simon and Kadota from when you were alive, and the head demon dudes, and your sisters love you like crazy.”

Izaya is staring at him in amazement.

“How did you know all that?”

“You’re not the only one who knows things.”

Shizuo finds out later, much later, that Izaya had been an angel himself, that he had been Isaiah the Prophet before he’d fallen for unknown reasons, and shown no signs of repentance. 

He misses Izaya. He loves Izaya. He snuggles down more firmly into the clouds and lets himself dream.

-

Every night, Shizuo goes to their agreed meeting point in Ikebukuro. He wishes Izaya had picked somewhere with a meadow or palm trees, but the demon loved humans, and cities fascinated him. 

Shizuo is hovering next to the tallest skyscraper, daydreaming, when there’s a rush of air and Izaya’s profile suddenly appears in the centre of the full moon, his wings spread to their marvellous breadth.

“Beautiful,” Shizuo says, when Izaya appears to be waiting for him to say something.

“Is that all you have to say?” the demon demands.

“I have seen your wings before,” Shizuo reminds him. “And we both know you’re as pretty as a peacock.” 

He finally takes the demon in his arms. Izaya still smells of roses and orchids. He must have only recovered recently.

“Let’s take it easy,” Shizuo says, stroking the black wings that quiver against his fingers. “Let’s go somewhere close by, like Kyoto.”

They land near a pond in the valley, with nothing around but flowers and abandoned shrines. Shizuo gives Izaya a little tug when he goes to sit down.

“Um, I have something for you.”

He reaches into his pocket and brings out a scroll with gold ink. An official invitation to a concert in the heavens. The invitation was for the whole night, although the concert itself was only a couple of hours. 

“They want you to know there’s no hard feelings,” Shizuo says softly. “And I want them - and you - to know that I’m not ashamed of you.”

-

Now Izaya is fully recovered, he finally makes his way down into the leaders’ HQ. They are playing cards when someone lets him in. 

“Izaya.” Shiki acknowledges him with a glance. “You’re all better?”

“Yes,” he says. He doesn’t come any closer. An oversized crocodile is resting by their feet. Most animals stayed up there, but crocodiles in particular enjoyed the heat. It can’t kill him, of course, but Izaya doesn’t fancy waiting for his body to heal after only just recovering the use of his wings. The crocodile eyes him back languidly. 

“What can I do for you?” Shiki says now.

“I have an invitation up there.”

He unwinds the scroll and lets it float in front of them. They all stop playing and crane their heads to get a better look. All of them but Shiki. Even the crocodile twitches. There is no doubt of the scroll's authenticity.

“Mozart,” Aozaki murmurs with envy. “You couldn’t ask him to play down here, could you? I can’t believe he’s not one of ours.”

“I don’t think I’ll get to _speak_ to Mozart,” Izaya says nervously.

“Why not? I spoke to Beethoven last time I went up there. Hell of a guy.”

“Maybe make a banner, if you can’t speak to him,” Akabayashi suggests.

“But I thought you’d want me to keep a low profile,” Izaya says, eyeing Shiki, who is studying his cards and taking no notice of their conversation whatsoever. “Not, you know, fangirling over Mozart and making banners to entice him into hell.”

“No banners,” Shiki clarifies. “You can go. But best behaviour, please. If I have to go to another one of those long-winded hearings I’ll go out of my mind.”

“Yes, Shiki-san,” he says, bowing. Before he can run away, the older demon adds, “While I have you, we’re having an open gate party soon, and I’d like you to come. Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s not a good party without a few pretty faces.”

“Can’t Namie and Saika go?”

“Of course they’re going, but we need something for the ladies, and for the gentlemen who like gentlemen.”

“So I’ll be part of the decorations," Izaya says, annoyed.

“You can bring your boyfriend,” Shiki says placatingly. “And tell him to bring friends. It’s an open gate party, after all. Come and see me later and we’ll discuss the details.”

Izaya leaves feeling like he has both won and lost points. At least he can go and see Mozart with Shizu-chan. That's got to be an overall win.

-

Later, he is led into Shiki’s private receiving quarters, that held a huge fireplace, an ebony desk and an olive couch. It is hot in the room. Izaya was normally used to the heat, but he had been spending a lot of time on Earth and on the borders up there, in the fresh air, and has to fan himself with his wings several times to cool down. He had been here many times before, on both business and pleasure. The oak wood connecting door, Izaya knows, led to a room that contained only a bed. He comes forward, and notices with distaste that the crocodile is in front of the fire.

“Have a seat,” Shiki calls to him, gesturing to the couch. “I’ll be right with you.” Then, seeing him hesitate, he nudges the crocodile with his shoe, who crawls off and disappears through the wall. Izaya takes his seat with relief.

Kine had looked after Izaya when he had first fallen. But then he had been kicked out for unknown reasons, and suddenly Shiki was in charge, though Izaya had learned to look after himself by then anyway. He got a lot of looks, a lot of interest, as he was fresh blood, still pure, his wings still mostly white, though he was shedding them by the day. When they had been introduced, Shiki had sat him on this very couch, Shiki who landed on the couch beside him and folded his huge wings behind his back, Shiki with his sharp eyes and markings all over his skin, and Izaya felt a kind of longing from just looking at him. He had apologised stupidly for the little trail of white feathers he had left on the floor, as the shedding always seemed to get worse when he was nervous. Shiki had brushed the apology off.

“How are you settling in?” he asked.

“Fine,” Izaya had said, and chose not to say anything else.

“Were you close to Kine?”

“I got on well with him,” he says carefully, wary of the question. 

“You must get a lot of attention still,” Shiki says, meaning Izaya’s scent and his half-black half-white wings, but he doesn’t say it mockingly. “But don’t worry. It’s like the saying; we have a special place in hell for people like that, and we do. No-one will touch you without your permission.”

“Thank you,” he says uncertainly, tempted to give the demon in front of him his permission there and then. 

They had eventually made it to the connecting bedroom, and when Izaya had woke from a rare nap afterwards, the silk bed was covered with what had remained of Izaya’s white feathers. Izaya sits up to see them better, a little sadly. He realises that he is probably far from the first fallen angel who had lost the last of their original feathers like this.

“Keep one,” Shiki suggests lazily. “As a souvenir.”

“Yes,” Izaya is unable to keep from goading. “I imagine you have many souvenirs like this already.”

The other demon only chuckles at this.

Izaya stretches and beats his new wings uncertainly, feeling like a chick at the edge of the nest.

“They’re heavier.”

“They’re stronger too,” Shiki says, watching him. His face softens a touch. “They suit you.”

Izaya looks at the fluffy white feathers scattered on the black silk and says nothing.

“You’re one of us now,” Shiki tells him, pulling him into his own huge wings for a kiss. “Welcome home.”

Izaya had embarked on a period of recklessness after this, of lust and destruction and even outright cruelty, figuring he had nothing to lose. He fucks whenever he wants, fights whenever he wants, causes trouble at heaven’s gates from which he was now barred, which was how he met Shizuo. He would occasionally climb into Shiki’s lap when he was horny, who would give him either the fuck of his eternity or throw him across the room, depending on his mood. But Izaya had mostly outgrown that phase now. His sisters had fallen together, something rare at their age, and he had been furious, convinced they had done something on purpose just to piss him off, and then realised grudgingly that he would have to behave more responsibly. Well, slightly more responsibily. 

Shiki finally joins him on the couch, the couch they had fucked on so many times, and hands him a goblet of wine. 

“How are you?”

“Fine,” Izaya says, not quite looking him in the eye. His memories have made him uneasy, and he strives to think of something else, something neutral and boring.

Shiki laughs then, taking him by surprise. 

“Look at you all coy,” he says, running a hand through the younger demon’s hair. “He’s truly turning you into a little angel, isn’t he? We’ll have to be careful he doesn’t steal you away from us.”

Izaya can feels his fangs and claws descending, which is probably what Shiki wants.

“No,” he says calmly, leaning away from Shiki's hand. “And they wouldn’t take me back anyway.”

“I don’t know. Those angels do love their poets.”

“I don’t want to go back,” Izaya insists.

Then you won’t mind if I do this.”

He cups Izaya’s face in his hands and kisses him, and oh, Izaya had forgotten how hot his mouth was. Before them, the fire seems to blaze hotter. Izaya experiences the familiar sensation of Shiki’s markings leaving his body and crawling on to his own, curling around him like snakes, their familiar aphrodosiac making him dizzy. Not that Shiki needed such assistance, but Izaya used to like it, used to beg for it in fact.

“Shiki,” Izaya mumbles, more and more disoriented. He makes an effort to speak while he still can. “Please don’t. I - I love Shizu-chan.”

Shiki moves back at once, his markings returning to their usual place, the fire subsiding.

“You do?”

Izaya’s head clears, although he is still painfully hard. He curtains his wings around himself in embarrassment. 

“Yes.”

“Have you told him?”

“Yes,” he lies.

“No, you haven’t.”

_Damn it._

Shiki shakes his head in amusement.

“You two need to stop being so dramatic. Do you think you’re the only cross couple in the entire universe?” 

Izaya shifts further away from him on the couch.

“It’s no big deal to anyone,” Shiki continues. “You two have been in so much trouble for each other, literally gone to the ends of the Earth for one another. It was obvious what was going to happen.”

“We were fighting,” Izaya says uselessly. 

“Yes, and we were all taking bets on how long it would take for all that sexual tension to come to a head. I’m still partly convinced it was you two who caused that earthquake at the time.”

“No-one was hurt.”

Reclining back on the couch, Shiki adds, “It honestly doesn’t really matter if you’re an angel or a demon.” He shrugs as the younger demon stares at him. “The truth is, aside from some of us who are so cruel that it scares even me, and some who are so saintly and fundamentalist that it’s unnatural, most of us fall somewhere in between. That’s why I want to have so many open gate parties and functions. It’s not just political. It’s more logical and natural and just better for all of us.”

“That’s very controversial,” Izaya offers.

“Of course it is,” Shiki snorts. “Why do you think I’m down here?”

Izaya smiles. 

“So go and be with your angel,” Shiki tells him in conclusion. “Make friends with each other’s friends. It’s really not a big deal.”

Izaya’s goblet floats conveniently by his arm. He uncurls a wing for a moment to take a sip.

“Do you miss it up there?” Shiki asks quietly, watching him.

“Do you?” Izaya shoots back.

“Who says I was up there?” Shiki smiles.

“Maybe you were and maybe you weren’t,” Izaya says vaguely, when in reality his has no idea of Shiki’s origins, and just wants to take the attention off himself. 

Shiki shakes his head now.

“There’s nothing more romantic than having your wings clipped for someone,” he says, and Izaya almost shudders just at the word ‘clipped.’ “I hope he’s worth it.”

Yes, their first kiss had been in a tornado. They had repeated this operation many times, deliberately seeking the wildest and most isolated parts of the world, going from the northern lights in Antarctica to the midnight sun in Russia, scattering black and white feathers all over the world. As one of his more useless party tricks, Izaya could turn into a raven and Shizuo a dove. Perhaps they could figure out how to turn into swans in their respective colours and stay together for their short lives, undisturbed by anyone else. 

Izaya’s goblet automatically fills itself, but Izaya gently pushes it away.

“I have to go now.”

He as to tell Shizuo he loves him in every language he can think of.

Shiki nods, and the door opens by itself to let him go.

**Author's Note:**

> One day I will stop spamming this fandom. Maybe.


End file.
